


Old Habits

by Arsenic



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9612041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Logan is home on leave.  Veronica's up to her usual mischief.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/gifts).



> Unbeta'ed, because treat/time issues. Sorry!

Veronica pulls out of Logan's welcome back kiss after a few minutes and says, "I know it's your first night back and he's your mortal enemy and all, but you think you can make nice with my dad for the length of dinner tonight? We've been on separate cases and you weren't supposed to get back till tomorrow so we were gonna case chat over dinner."

Logan doesn't actually mean to hesitate. He's just tired. He's got a week of leave—a little over, since he finagled a ride out twenty four hours early—after thirteen months of active duty, and all he wants to do is curl up against Veronica and listen to her tell him things, maybe make the effort of sniping something clever at her now and then. 

She says, "I can cancel," into the silence, and she's got her game face on. Logan thinks there are probably three or four people in the universe who can read past that face. Unfortunately, he's one of them. He doubts she's upset about cancelling dinner—her and Keith will catch up over the phone if they need to—she's upset about her boyfriend and her dad being "mortal enemies."

He drops his forehead against hers. "No, no, I've got this. We're good. Just, Mexican, please? I would actually maim in cold blood for a quality tamale."

She smiles a little. "Settle down there, tiger. Pretty sure we can manage that."

*

There are a lot of things Logan wishes he could do for Veronica. (Deserve her. That one might be at the top of the list.) He definitely wishes he could explain that he doesn't hate Keith. He doesn't even really _dislike_ Keith.

Keith scares the shit out of him.

It's not in the way his own dad did. Logan knows Keith's not going to hit him. Well, he's pretty sure. As sure, he thinks, as any kid who's used to being hit can be.

No, Keith terrifies Logan because Keith knows Logan isn't good enough for Veronica, and Veronica listens to him. 

And, all right, if Logan is honest, he hates Keith a little bit. But not in the way Veronica thinks. Not in the pure way: that would be easy, clean. He hates Keith for being the dad Logan always wanted. Hell, for being the _parent_ Logan wanted. Keith _loves_ Veronica, even when she's driving him crazy, pissing him off.

Being near that… It's just difficult, is all. Logan has no problem surviving difficulty, though, and he'd survive a fuck of a lot more for just one of Veronica's fond smiles. He knows he's owned. He's all right with that.

*

They make it through dinner just fine. This might be partially because Veronica wasn't lying—she and Keith do have a lot to catch up on—and partially because Logan is busy swearing undying love to the combo plate he's making his way through. He clears the table to let them keep talking, and then makes the mistake of sitting on the couch.

The next thing he knows he's starting at the touch of a hand on his knee, and Veronica's saying, "Hey, sorry, you fell asleep."

Logan's heart is racing in a way that's rare anymore. He's pretty sure it's just the fact that he's been working not to make a target of himself all evening. He swallows a few times. "Yeah, sorry, long day."

She tilts her head. "Can I make it up to you, sailor?"

It forces a laugh from him. "As long as we both agree I don't have to put the uniform back on."

She pouts. "Not even so I can strip it off with my teeth?"

From the other room, Keith shouts, "Virgin ears, Veronica!"

She snorts and shouts back, "Always knew I was the second coming!"

When she focuses back in on him, her eyes narrow. "You okay?"

Logan honestly doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know if he's stiffened or just looks a little off-balance or what. He forces a smile. "Take me to bed or lose me forever."

She rolls her eyes, and mutters, "wrong branch, philistine," but she also takes him home. Logan knows a win when he sees one.

*

Logan can't decide if it's an actual mistake on Veronica's part or very intentional machinations when Keith shows up at her place two days later under the belief that he's supposed to meet her there at that time. Only, Veronica's out talking to a client. Logan's pretty sure it's the latter.

Keith looks pissed off. Despite being in the second half of his twenties and a career Navy officer, it's all Logan can do not to either back off and get the fuck out of dodge or go on the offensive. Fight or flight, there's never really been anything in between for him.

He rubs a hand on the back of his head, pushes both reactions down violently, and says, "There's, uh. There's still coffee in the pot, if you wanted."

Keith walks past him and says, "My daughter is a menace."

Logan winces and follows him into the kitchen. He'd been working his way through a second cup of coffee, reading a graphic novel, pretty much just unwinding in the quiet of Veronica's place. He likes it here. It feels closer to home than anywhere he's ever stayed. It's not lost on him that it's not his home, not even where he keeps his stuff. It's still true.

Logan takes a sip of his coffee. "She'll probably be back within the hour."

Keith puts the pot back in the machine and eyes Logan like Logan is a case board and Keith is missing the piece that will pull the mystery together. "How's the Navy?"

Logan takes a moment to fight against the instinct to say something snappy, something that would get someone else to back off. It won't work on Keith. It will make things worse. Plus, Logan doesn't really _want_ to be a dick just now. Old habits, and all that. Eventually he says, "Steady."

Keith takes another sip, still watching Logan. "And if she asked you to stay? Would you give up that steadiness you've found?"

Logan bites the inside of his lip. The Navy gives him purpose, makes him feel like he has a place, like what he does matters. For all that, though, he knows the truth. If Veronica so much as hinted that she was tired of waiting for him, he'd be taking honorable discharge and finding a way to transition into civilian life by the end of the day. "Yes. Sir."

He doesn't give it the slant he uses when addressing a superior. It's a sign of respect, though.

One of Logan's first superior officers had said offhandedly, "You're a good kid, Echolls," upon retirement. Logan had swallowed down his automatic denial. He'd allowed himself the secret of keeping that moment inside, away from where others could find out about it. Standing here, he knows he wants more of it, has always wanted more.

It's a terrible realization.

Keith sets his hands flat against the kitchen counter. "You have to understand, Logan. She's my world."

Logan can't stop the bitter smile that takes over his face. Keith asks, "Something funny?" his voice tight.

Logan shakes his head. "Ironic, maybe." He looks straight at Keith. "I understand. I might be the only other person in the whole world who does. Because she's mine too—" He takes a breath and makes himself say the words. "My world. Too."

Keith drains the coffee from his cup and sets it in the sink. He sighs and says, "Okay," then walks out of the room, out of the apartment.

Logan glances down at his own hands and says, "Okay."

*

Logan's looking at pitbull rescues when Veronica gets home a few hours later. She hooks her chin on his shoulder and says, "Aren't you gone kind of a lot to be thinking about getting a dog?"

"I was thinking you could use Backup two point oh."

"Really? You weren't thinking my own dog would be the perfect murder weapon? Practically impossible to trace?" She pulls away, sitting down in the seat next to him, an eyebrow quirked.

"Really," is all Logan says. He could yell at her, have a fight, storm out and stay at a hotel for a night. But he's got a week. A week before at least another eight months active duty, and he finds he's just not interested in a fight. He knows he'll come crawling back first. He basically always has.

To his surprise, she says, "I'm sorry."

He must look absolutely gobsmacked. Her laugh is a quiet, bitter thing. She says, "You're not here most of the time."

He opens his mouth but she shakes her head. "No, no, it's not—I'm not upset. I mean, I miss you, of course, and I wish you were around more, but I like that you have this whole part of you that's just for yourself, that you're confident about. That's not the point I'm trying to make."

"Okay," Logan says slowly.

"The point," she says crisply, "is that you…soften up some of my edges."

He snorts.

"Yeah, yeah, but, I mean, funny or not, it's true. And then you go away, and it's on Mac and dad to keep me in line and they try, they do, but they've got their own shit. So I kind of…fall back into old habits sometimes. And I did that today. I shouldn't have, it was a shitty thing to do."

"Okay," he says again. He leans over and kisses her. "Haven't managed to get rid of me yet, Mars. Gonna have to try harder than that."

Her smile is uncertain, which is something Logan hates. Before he can do his best to wipe it away, though, she asks, "Was he at least civil?

"We both were," he tells her, and holds up the Boy Scout promise symbol.

"Were you ever a Boy Scout?"

"Why don't you tell me, PI Extraordinaire?"

She tilts her head and instead of making it a joke, her eyes go soft. "Yeah, I think you were."

She's not wrong, but it's not something he wants to talk about. He can tell she knows because she says, "Hey, wanna go look at a dog shelter?"

He smiles, laughing a little helplessly. "Yeah, I really do."

*

They're up late that night with the probably-two-year-old bloodhound-pinscher-something-else mix introduced to them as Remington. Veronica'd looked over at Logan with puppy eyes of her own, and about an hour later, they'd been at the pet store, loading up on necessities.

By the time they crawl into bed together, the sex—which they have an unspoken pact to have at least once a day, since their time together is short—is lazy and sweet, with a fair amount of laughter and a whole lot of cuddling before either of them drifts off to sleep.

It's less than two hours before Logan wakes, frantic from a nightmare about Aaron still being alive, about him succeeding in his attempt to kill Veronica. They're tangled together when it happens, and even if they weren't, Veronica's a light sleeper. She's got her hands framing his face and she's saying his name over and over when his heart beat and breathing slow down enough for anything to make sense.

"Hey," she says. "Hey."

"Sorry." His mouth feels numb, everything does, the aftermath of the adrenaline flooding his system. "Sorry, those, uh. Those don't happen a lot anymore."

One of her hands is combing through his hair. "Sh, it's okay. It's… _you're_ okay. I've got you."

He lets out a shaky breath and she says, "C'mon, let's—I'm gonna make you something hot and alcoholic. Change the sheets. Be super domestic. You don't wanna miss it."

His laugh is hoarse, but it's genuine. She kisses him lightly. "There you go."

When she pulls him out of the bed, he follows.

*

She melts half a stick of butter with some cream, allspice, nutmeg, and cinnamon, then pours in a hefty dash of rum and lets it heat for a moment before pouring the concoction into two mugs and handing him one. He takes a sip and nearly asks her to marry him, except he would mean it, and he figures that's a dick move at four in the morning when he smells like dried sweat.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asks.

He doesn't, and he knows she'll let him out of it. It's knowing that which makes him say, "Daddy issues."

She looks down. "I really shouldn't have—"

He shakes his head. "You apologized. And I—I wasn't that upset in the first place. Annoyed, but not, not _pissed._ "

"Yeah, well, you just had a screaming nightmare, so—"

"So I have issues, Veronica. We both have issues. We all have issues."

"I love you."

He nearly does a spit take. It's not that she never says it. She does. But it usually comes with some sort of context. "I love you too? I mean, that's not a question, I'm just not sure—"

"I mean, I love you, issues and all. I just—I thought that should be clear."

And then Logan figures, fuck it, because they've never done things the easy or expected way. He says, "Marry me."

Her mouth drops open and he puts up a hand. "I'll say it again later, figure out a way that you can tell your dad and Mac and Wallace about, that I can brag to my colleagues about. I'll get you a ring you'll probably have to return because I can never quite figure out what the fuck kind of ring you'd wear, but—but marry me."

She shrugs. "I like dogs better than rings anyway."

He forces himself to take a sip. "Was that a yes?"

"That was absolutely a yes. Now drink up and let's go have some celebratory shower sex before we change the sheets and sleep till noon."

"My name is Logan Echolls, and I approve this plan."

*

When they actually wake up the next day—getting up to let Remy out doesn't count—she asks, "Were you serious?"

He tucks his face against her shoulder and says, "As world peace. But, uh. Let me ask your dad for his permission first before I do any elaborate proposing and we tell people, yeah?"

She pulls back to look at his face. "You know you don't have to, right? My answer's yes, even if he's not thrilled about it."

"I know," he tells her, shrugging and reaching a hand out to brush hair out of her face.

After a moment, she nods, smiling sharply, but without any malice. "Fuck, you're sweet."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, "don't let it get out."

She laughs, lowering herself back into a cuddling position. "Your secrets are safe with me."

**Author's Note:**

> Igrockspock: I know this doesn't really answer your prompt regarding Keith and Logan dancing around each other, but that prompt made this story form in my head practically fully-grown and I had to write it. I really enjoyed the experience, so thank you for the prompt, and despite the fact that this is sort of an offshoot from it, I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
